


Paint It Red

by Rhiannon87



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthdays, Brothers, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Prompt Fic, TV Marathons, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avengers prompt fills, originally posted on tumblr. (Title stolen from Welcome to the New Age by Imagine Dragons, one of many excellent unofficial Avengers theme songs.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agreywood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agreywood/gifts), [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/gifts), [historymiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/historymiss/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For lifeofkj: Peggy, telephone.
> 
> Okay, so it turned out to be radio, not telephone. Sorry. Close enough, I hope? Also I have no idea how 1940s tech works. Sorry again.

“Carter!”

Peggy looks up from her reports and scans the war room for the source of the shout. An unfamiliar agent waves at her to get her attention. “Captain Rogers for you.”

She manages to mostly keep the thrill of joy— of relief— internalized. Professionalism. She will not give in and beam like a giddy schoolgirl at the mere mention of his name. “Thank you,” she says, and allows the agent to escort her to the radio room. So young— the new ones always look so young to her, even though Peggy’s pretty sure she’s still too young to be thinking like that.

Peggy takes a seat at the radio set, then stares imperiously at the young agent until he gets the hint and scurries off. Once he’s out of sight, she smirks and picks up the headset. “Captain?”

There’s a brief delay, then a crackle of static and his voice. “Agent Carter,” he greets her, warm and happy, and she can just picture his smile. “I wanted to give you the update on our recon at the Hydra outpost.”

She leans back in her chair. “Doesn’t Morita usually make the reports?”

“Um. Well, yeah, but I, uh, I thought…” He pauses to clear his throat before continuing, and Peggy shakes her head, grinning. He’s so easy to fluster, even after all this time. “Well. Since it’s a special occasion and all. I asked if I could be the one to do it.” There’s another delay, longer, as if he’s hesitating. “I did remember the day right, didn’t I? It is your birthday.”

“Yes, Steve. It is,” Peggy says. He’s in the middle of a war zone and he still manages to find a way to talk to her on her birthday.

“Well. Good. I, uh, I’m still not very good at talking to women, but I know better than to ask how old you are.”

Younger than you, Steve, she thinks, but she keeps that to herself. “Bucky taught you well,” she teases.

“That I figured out on my own,” he replies with a chuckle. “And, uh, I should probably give you that report. Jim’s glaring at me, he doesn’t like other people touching his radio.”

She nods and grabs the pad of paper and pencil. “Right. Go ahead.”

He’s direct and crisp in his report; they’ll telegraph over a more detailed version later, but the radio’s faster, gives command the chance to respond more quickly. “…should be able to move in tonight, if the cloud cover holds,” Steve concludes. “It’s a smaller base. Shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“For the man who single-handedly stormed one of Hydra’s largest installations? I shouldn’t think so.” Peggy sets down her pencil.

Steve sighs, and she can picture the way he’d shake his head and smile in embarrassed pride. “Never gonna live that down, huh.”

“Mm, not likely.” Peggy glances at the door, where the radio operator whose seat she’s taken is lurking. “I have to go, Steve. Someone will contact you if there’s an issue with the plan.”

“Right.” He pauses again. “Happy birthday, Peggy.”

She smiles. “Thank you, Steve. With luck, this will all be over before it’s your special day.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. With luck,” he says, and she knows that neither of them believe it. But they have to hope. It’s already been a year since Steve led the Commandos out into the field for the first time. There can’t be that many more Hydra bases. The war can’t last much longer. She’s not certain England can take it.

“Be careful, Captain.”

“You too, Agent Carter.”

She waits until the radio goes to static, then silence, before taking off the headset. It’s not much, but her day’s just a little brighter now. She takes a deep breath and collects her notes, then heads off to find Colonel Phillips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For lifeofkj: Steve and Tony, Truth or Dare

They’re the only ones left awake, sprawled across pieces of furniture in the renovated penthouse. Natasha and Clint wandered off to go do some kind of scary drunk spysassin thing. Or make out. Tony’s not sure what their deal is, and quite frankly, he’s too frightened to Tasha to ask. Bruce is curled up in an over-large armchair, sound asleep, his glasses sliding off his nose and a few empty bottles on the end table. And Thor… well, Thor was introduced to vodka, declared it a remarkable beverage (earning him Natasha’s undying respect), and drank two bottles before wandering off elsewhere in the Tower. Tony hasn’t heard the sound of anything breaking, nor has JARVIS alerted him to catastrophic structural damage, so he figures they’re good.

That leaves him, a professional alcoholic, and Steve, who can’t get drunk, which is a damn shame, because Tony is certain that Steve would be a hilarious drunk. Ah, well. He gestures at Steve with the glass in his hand. “Truth or dare,” he says in a stage-whisper, out of respect for the sleeping Bruce.

Steve raises his head off the back of the couch and arches an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“You were probably the guy who always picked truth,” Tony guesses with a sage nod.

Steve looks like he’s about to argue, then rolls his eyes and thinks better of it. He’s learning, Tony notes. There are times when arguing with Tony Stark is a worthwhile endeavor, and then there are times like this, when Tony will just get increasingly obstinate for his own amusement. Clearly, Steve’s started to pick up on which is which. Or Pepper filled him in. “Sure, why not, truth,” Steve says and takes a sip of his drink.

Damn. He’d really been expecting Steve to pick dare, and he had a good one involving the bottle of absinthe and Clint’s bow. Tony stares at him, eyes narrowed, contemplating what he knows about Cap and what questions won’t lead to that sad, closed-off, lonely face he gets when he’s thinking about Before. “The uniform,” he finally decides. “Do you _actually_ like that spangly getup?”

Steve laughs and shrugs. “Y’know what?” he says. “I actually sorta do.” Well, all right, fair enough.  Tony toasts him with the glass and takes another drink. “Truth or dare, Stark?” Steve asks.

“Dare.” He always chooses dare. It’s the less risky option.

Steve tilts his head at the hallway. “Go steal Clint’s bow,” he says. “I have an idea.”

Tony beams at him. “Great minds _do_ think alike!” he says and bounces out of his chair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For silverchimaera: Natasha and Pepper and how to deal with Tony.
> 
> Stole a line from Whedon's Avengers commentary to kickstart my brain on this one.

“You’ve worked with him before, Natasha,” Pepper says, not unkindly, her gaze flicking to the laptop sitting open on the kitchen island. The other woman’s at the Tower for some Avengers-related business with Tony, business that’s on hold because Tony’s In The Workshop and can’t be disturbed. Or, more accurately, won’t be. He cheerfully and aggressively ignored Natasha’s attempts to get his attention, finally resorting to crawling halfway inside the engine of one of his cars to get his point across.

So now Natasha’s pacing around the kitchen, her gaze flicking around in a way that makes Pepper think she’s mapping out blind spots and tactical cover or something like that. “This is different,” Natasha says, finally coming to a stop and leaning against the island. “He’s been ignoring all of us,” meaning S.H.I.E.L.D., “since Thor and Loki returned to Asgard.”

Something which probably has a lot to do with Coulson— Pepper frowns, the only outward sign of the pang of grief that shoots through her at the thought of her friend— and a lot to do with Fury’s not-quite-an-order regarding the nuke. “The trick to dealing with Tony,” she says, neatly tucking all those unpleasant emotions away for a later time, “is to remember that as far as he’s concerned, it’s his world and we all just happen to live in it.” Some of the people he likes better than others and goes out of his way to take care of, but at the end of the day, Tony tends to act like they’re all running around on his playground. “He doesn’t react well to reminders that he’s, you know, wrong.”

Natasha’s lips quirk in a faint smile. “So how do I get him to sit down and listen to me for four minutes?”

“Make him think it was his idea,” Pepper replies. She loves Tony, she really does, but after all these years manipulating him into doing what needs to be done has become a necessary survival tactic.

Natasha blinks at her, thoughtful, then straightens up and smirks. “Thanks for the tip,” she says and strides off towards the elevator with a determined glint in her eyes.

Pepper taps a key on her laptop to remove the screensaver. “Jarvis?” she says. “Can I get audio and visual on the security feeds for the workshop?” This she really has to see. Either she’ll learn a few things— Natasha’s not S.H.I.E.L.D’s top spy for nothing— or she’ll need to give the other woman a few pointers on the fine art of manipulating Tony Stark. Natasha might be one of the world’s best spies, but nothing can beat Pepper’s years of experience in Tony-wrangling.

She smirks as the video appears on her screen and wonders if it would be wrong to make popcorn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For cypheroftyr: Thor and Loki, imagined slights and petty hurts.

_“We played together. We fought together! Do you remember none of it?”_

_“I remember a shadow, standing in the shade of your greatness.”_

He has failed his little brother. Failed him countless times, over the long years, and the largest failing of them all is that he did not realize it.

Thor sits at the large table in the center of S.H.I.E.L.D’s flying fortress and watches the images on the small screen as Loki paces around his cell. The others have dispersed, gone to occupy themselves with the hunt for the Tesserect or whatever other tasks Fury has set them on. But there is nothing for him to do. He cannot even speak to his brother. To do so would only incite his rage, make him more stubborn.

So instead he watches, snatches of their conversation on the mountaintop repeating over and over in his mind. He never meant to make Loki feel lesser. Thor _was_ firstborn prince of Asgard, so certain accolades and privileges fell to him, but… he had always tried to include his brother. Share the glory. He was the one who had drawn Loki out, convinced him to join in their adventures with Sif and the other Warriors. Not because he wanted to flaunt his skills and his friends, but because he wanted his brother to be part of it. And yes, at first it had been Thor’s little brother tagging along, but Loki had proved himself. The others had considered him a friend and warrior in his own right.

Of course they had hurt each other—brothers do. Taunts or tricks that went too far, that led to black rages on Thor’s part and silent, cold fury on Loki’s. But they’d never lasted. They’d moved on, they’d laughed, they’d forgiven each other.

At least, Thor had. Loki, it seems, never did, not truly. And in not seeing it, in not realizing… Thor has failed him. He did not realize how bitter, how envious his little brother had grown. Their father was right—Thor had been vain and selfish, and if he had not been so wrapped up in his own concerns, his own dreams of being king, he might have realized. He might have seen it, and… and stopped all this, somehow. He is the elder brother. Taking care of Loki is—was—his responsibility.

No longer, it seems. He cannot save someone who so clearly does not wish to be saved. He would have pulled him back from the abyss, would have begged their father for mercy on his brother’s behalf. But Loki let go. And now, Loki tells himself that it was Thor’s doing, that Thor threw him down, cast him out.

Nothing could be further from the truth, but Loki has always been a very good liar.

On the screen, Loki pauses in his circuit of the cell, his gaze flicking upwards as though trying to meet Thor’s gaze. Impossible—Thor does not fully understand the communication devices used on Midgard, but he does know that much—but he still leans back in his chair, avoiding his brother’s eyes. Loki made his own choices, yet Thor cannot help but blame himself, at least in part.

“Thor?”

He looks across the room to where Coulson is standing by a larger screen. Coulson waves him over. “Do you have need of me?” Thor asks as he stands.

Coulson shakes his head. “Something I wanted to tell you,” he says. “About Doctor Foster.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For agreywood: Science bros have a Farscape or Firefly marathon.
> 
> This is very silly. I regret nothing.

It started, as these things often do, in the lab. Tony and Bruce were ensconced in their corners, working on two halves of a larger project. Things were reasonably calm… right up until Tony threw his hands (and a magnetic screwdriver) into the air in triumph. “Yes!” he crowed. “No power in the ‘verse can stop me!”

Bruce peered at Tony over the top of his glasses. “What?”

“I am a leaf on the wind, Bruce,” Tony replied happily. “Watch how I soar.”

“You… are a what?”

Tony spun around in his chair and stared at Bruce with an expression verging on horror. “…big damn heroes?” he asked, voice faint, and when the bewildered look on Bruce’s face didn’t change, he grabbed at his heart in mock-pain and lurched to his feet. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Tony, I’m in the middle of—”

“Bruce. You don’t understand. This is an emergency. You’ve never seen _Firefly_.” Tony grabbed Bruce by the wrist and hauled him to the door. “Jarvis—”

“I have the pilot episode queued up in the theater, sir,” Jarvis cut in smoothly.

“Thanks, buddy.” Tony grinned at the nearest security camera. “And let Pepper know? She’ll never forgive me if I didn’t invite her to the marathon.”

“Of course, sir.”

Bruce pulled his arm free and followed Tony up the stairs. “Is this a TV show?” he asked.

“It’s one of the greatest TV shows ever written, Bruce,” Tony said solemnly. “It will change your life.” He paused at the top of the stairs. “Just… try to keep a lid on it when you find out how many episodes there are.” He wouldn’t even mention what happened to Book and Wash in the movie. That would have to be handled delicately. It had sent Tony on a two-day bender of grief, and Pepper had been too bereft herself to pull him out of it. Bruce… yeah, they’d have to arrange a special viewing or something.

But that was hours away. “Why, are there a lot?” Bruce asked.

Tony let out a mournful sigh. “You’ll see, buddy,” he said, ushering Bruce into the home theater. “You’ll see.”


	6. Bucky/Natasha, rainbows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For historymiss/hobosoldier.

He rotates the glass on the table until the sunlight shines through the crystal and water at just the right angles to create little rainbows on her hands. Natasha catches him at it, of course, gives him a tiny smirk that’s half-amused, half-question.

It’s still a bit strange that he can read her expressions so easily. She says he’s always been good at it, and some part of him must remember. He shrugs. It’s pretty, the sunlight and the colors and her hands, and he enjoys it. It serves no purpose, means nothing, it’s just nice to look at.

"I wanted to," he says, answering her unspoken question, and her smile turns a little sad, but mostly understanding. She knows what he means.


	7. Steve and Natasha, visiting hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For atrafeathers. Major spoilers for Captain America 2: The Winter Soldier.

It’s the first thing he sees when he cracks his eyes open that night: the red numbers of the clock on the wall, helpfully informing him that it’s almost two a.m.

"You weren’t supposed to wake up."

Steve turns his head to the side and squints through his non-swollen eye at Natasha. She’s sitting in the chair Sam had occupied earlier in the day, her hair swept back in a ponytail and an oversized hoodie hanging loose on her shoulders. “Visiting hours ended a while ago,” he points out with a small smirk. It’s good to see her.

Natasha shrugs, rolls her eyes.  _Since when have I cared about rules?_   ”Pretty impressive, making it out of the river,” she says. “Most people wouldn’t have been able to swim to shore with that many bullet holes in them.”

Her voice is guarded, and there’s something intent lurking in her gaze. Steve blinks slowly. “I’m not most people,” he says. “But I didn’t swim.” His hand curls into the blanket. “He remembered me, Natasha. He remembered. And he came after me, he got me out.” It was the only explanation. No one else could have gotten to him— no one else had even seen him fall. No one besides Bucky.

She sighs and looks away. “Steve—”

"He  _knew_  me.” He shakes his head. “I know what you think, what Sam said, but he knew me.”

Natasha smiles faintly, but she still won’t look at him. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay.”

She doesn’t believe him, but Steve doesn’t want to argue about it. “I’m gonna find him,” he says. “I have to.”

She chuckles. “Well, you’re not finding anyone like this.” Steve grimaces, which just makes his whole face hurt even worse. Bucky hadn’t been pulling his punches. “Go back to sleep, Steve,” Natasha says. “You need the rest.”

She doesn’t move from her chair, though, and Steve knows she’ll be here until just before visiting hours start again. He wonders if she and Sam planned it. Either way, it’s comforting to know that people he trusts are keeping watch. 


	8. Bucky/Natasha, holding hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For ramblingredrose on tumblr.

She holds his metal hand in both of hers, turning it lightly from side to side to examine it. He knows this is a mistake, that he shouldn’t let her see it this close. She will find weaknesses, flaws in the design, and use them against him.

(She is weak to his lips on her throat, to the tiny genuine smiles he offers her in the dark, and he would never dream of using those against her.)

"More upgrades?" she asks, the English a bit stilted. But getting better, steadily. She’s learning English better than he learned Russian. (Why he thinks in English, why he had to learn Russian in the first place, remains a mystery that he doesn’t entirely want to solve.) He just nods, quiet, and lets her continue her examination. 

She presses her fingertips to his, one at a time, tapping skin against metal before she smiles and laces their fingers together. He automatically folds his fingers over, presses them against the back of her hand. He could crush her hand, like this, tighten and twist and she’d be left with a bloody, shattered wreck at the end of her arm.

He could. Instead he lightly runs his thumb back and forth against her skin, and this time when she smiles, he smiles back.


	9. Bucky/Natasha, things you said between your teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For historymiss.

She had him face down on the floor, flesh arm twisted behind his back, her full body weight dedicated to keeping him pinned. It wasn’t good enough, though. The point of sparring was to incapacitate her opponent. They’d taken away her weapons this time, feared she’d become too reliant upon them. Too soft.

Natalia wanted to look up at the mirrored window where their trainers were observing, let them see how just how soft she was, but looking away from the Soldier for even a moment would ruin her. So instead she dug her knee into his spine and braced an arm across the back of his neck, leaned down to hiss into his ear. “Giving up already?” she asked between gritted teeth. “Don’t go easy on me just because you like having me on top–”

She saw him bare his teeth, though whether in anger or in a grin she couldn’t say, then his metal arm twisted and bent in ways that no human arm could, finding leverage and throwing her off him as he surged upright. She stumbled, caught herself, flipped backwards and landed on her feet. No time to recover, though, because the Soldier was already bearing down on her. Natalia smirked and danced backwards. She’d downed him once this match. She could do it again.


	10. Peggy/Steve, things you said after it was over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For beltsquid.

She said a lot of things, after it was over. Steve’s name, desperate and broken and heavy with tears. Her rank and title, over and over, something she had to defend every day after the war ended. The name of a waitress who would become her dearest friend. The name of a butler who would become her most reliable partner, for a time.

Her husband’s name, eventually. The words “I do” and meaning them with all her heart. Even though she knew that there was a part of her heart that would always be Steve’s. Her husband knew that, and part of why she loved him the way she did was that he didn’t get jealous. Didn’t demand that she give that part up. Steve was dear to her and always, always would be, but while he was important, he was part of her past.

She said they had to let Steve go, too, and she meant it. Saying goodbye didn’t mean forgetting. It did mean moving on.


End file.
